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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28204221">No Heroes, Only Monsters</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieBoheme/pseuds/MarieBoheme'>MarieBoheme</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd Needs a Hug, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:55:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,394</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28204221</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieBoheme/pseuds/MarieBoheme</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"But now, years into his isolation, there was a certain thrill that came with the fight. A reminder he was still alive–that he’d still have the energy, when face to face with <em>that woman</em>, to wrap his fingers around her throat and snap her neck as she deserved."</p>
<p>A glimpse into Dimitri's solitary journey during the timeskip.</p>
<p>Written for the <a href="https://twitter.com/dimitri_zine">A King's Journey</a> Dimitri zine.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>No Heroes, Only Monsters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Birthday, Dimitri!</p>
<p>I'm super excited to finally be able to post my full piece for the <a href="https://twitter.com/dimitri_zine">Dimitri Zine</a>. Humbled and honored don't even begin to describe my feelings about being allowed to take part in this amazing collection, which features a plethora of wonderful content dedicated to our King. I was assigned the "Dimitri Alone" segment of the zine, and while it was challenging to not be able to feature other characters, I really enjoyed being able to delve into Feral Dimitri's psyche. Our poor boy needs a cup of chamomile tea and a hug. </p>
<p>If you haven't already, keep an eye on the zine's social media because the store will be re-opening for leftover sales! It's worth every penny!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A lifetime ago, he’d been someone influential. Well-mannered, well-groomed. Wanting for nothing. Even with his ghosts haunting him, calling for revenge, he’d been able to maintain the image of a proper noble and future monarch. </p>
<p>But now, left to his own devices, one could never imagine looking at the shell that once housed Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd that he’d ever been in line for the throne. Once Crown Prince of Faerghus, he’d been reduced to scrounging for scraps and hiding in bushes for shelter. What would his former allies think if they saw him now, roaming the outskirts of the kingdom like a wild beast? Felix would feel vindicated no doubt. The others would be unable to hide their disappointment in what he had become, their once honorable leader reduced to nothing more than a feral dog. </p>
<p>Not that there was much risk of him coming across his old friends these days. The majority of his confrontations, few and far between, were either with adversaries, mostly bandits, who insisted on engaging him in battle, or common villagers who would flee in alarm at the sight of him. When he’d first escaped Fhirdiad, running into soldiers who were hunting for him was much more common. By now, Cornelia probably assumed him dead, and <em>she</em> couldn’t be bothered wasting her time trying to find him. At the beginning of his exile, Dimitri had always dreaded these violent exchanges out of sheer self-preservation. It had taken him some time to gather an effective weapon and adequate armor. If it weren't for the super-human strength his crest afforded him, he would have never made it past the first couple of weeks of exile. </p>
<p>But now, years into his isolation (or at least what he <em>assumed </em>to be years), there was a certain thrill that came with the fight. A reminder he was still alive–that he’d still have the energy, when face to face with <em>that woman</em>, to wrap his fingers around her throat and snap her neck as she deserved. At this point, he wasn't sure there was anything beyond his thirst for vengeance that kept him moving. </p>
<p>The days and the conflict they brought tended to blend together, although some fights stood out more than others. Such as the day he’d come across a small group, at most five or six soldiers, not far off the main road. He’d easily discovered them due to the fire they had going and the chorus of their voices floating through the otherwise deserted locale. They were passing a bottle of what looked like ale between them, which likely explained their complete lack of discretion. <em>Fools.</em></p>
<p>Dimitri watched as one man took a swig from his canteen before spitting it vulgarly onto the ground beside him. “You really couldn’t manage to swipe us something better than this trash?”</p>
<p>“And this bread’s gone stale,” another man lamented, frowning as he took a bite of the supposedly subpar ration. Dimitri’s mouth watered at the sight. </p>
<p>“Knock it off with your whining,” one of the larger men shouted, most likely the leader judging by the way the other men tensed up. “Let's see you try to find something better for the taking at the next village we pass through. You should count yourselves lucky we’re able to find anything worth stealing in these shit holes.”</p>
<p> Soldiers <em>and</em> pillagers. What a pungent combination. </p>
<p><em>Rats, </em>he thought to himself, his gaze narrowing. <em>Rats everywhere. </em>No matter how far he traveled, no matter how many soldiers he killed, there was no end to the scum that kept appearing, crossing his path, and reminding him of all he was determined to destroy. If not with an army at his side, then through sheer will alone.</p>
<p>As he continued to observe the soldiers, his attention was further drawn to the burlap sacks they had strewn across their camp and from which they were pulling out more ale and bread. Dimitri felt his stomach tighten at the sight. How long had it been since he’d eaten anything? It’d been years since he’d had a proper meal. Snippets of his time at the monastery, sitting in the dining hall with the Professor and his classmates, flashed in his mind. He quickly pushed them down. There was nothing to be gained from reminiscing about comforts long gone.</p>
<p>It was almost pitiful the ease with which Dimitri dispatched the group of soldiers. They barely had time to register that they were under attack before he’d already driven his sword through two of the men with one fluid movement, pushing them effortlessly to the side as they gurgled and sputtered blood. The rest began to scramble for their weapons, rather ineffectively in their booze addled state. One was easily taken down with a powerful kick to his back, followed by the crunching of boot on bone as his crest activated. </p>
<p>Of the rest, only one managed to put up some semblance of a fight, managing to grab his bow and fire several panicked shots towards the intruder. Most of the arrows missed him by a laughable margin, although one successfully planted itself into his shoulder. The only sign Dimitri even felt its presence was a low grunt as he powered forward, pushing his sword clean through the soldier’s throat. </p>
<p>The whole exchange took less than a handful of minutes. Victorious, Dimitri strode purposefully to where the men had been clustered around the fire, basking in its warmth momentarily before extinguishing it with nearby rocks and leaves. How had those soldiers not realized that the bright flames would only serve as a beacon for predators like him?</p>
<p>His eyes roamed the campsite, already making note of the armor and weapons he could take with him to replace his current equipment, which he’d been carrying around for far too long. But first, it was time to feast.</p>
<p>In the group’s provisions, he found a treasure trove of food, mostly bread and potatoes. Any other man would have lamented the blandness of the selection, but to Dimitri, it was all the same. Bits of food littered the ground as he tore into his meal with the same level of ferocity he had displayed just minutes ago in dispatching the group of soldiers. The memory of the etiquette classes he had been forced to attend during his childhood entered his mind, eliciting a bark-like laugh. Gilbert would be horrified if he could see what his charge had become. </p>
<p>It was only as he once again returned his attention to the men’s supplies, bending over to root through a burlap sack, that he was reminded by a sharp twinge of pain that he still had an arrow lodged in his left shoulder. Dimitri held his breath as he used both hands to yank the object from his flesh, hissing through his teeth as it broke free and blood began to pool at the wound’s opening. Not nearly as bad as it could have been; he would just need to make sure he found a water source to clean it out and avoid infection. A lesson he’d learned the hard way when he’d lost his eye. At that thought, he felt a familiar throbbing on the right side of his head. He did his best to ignore it.</p>
<p>Once he’d filled his belly, he began picking through the dead’s belongings. In the last few months, he had gone through a late growth spurt, the added inches making it increasingly more difficult to move around in the equipment he currently donned. It was with great satisfaction that he realized that one of the fallen soldiers was closer to his current height. After he’d finished changing, he scanned the campsite turned battlefield until his eye caught the glimmer of a familiar shape, a thrill running through him at the sight: a silver lance, propped up against a nearby rock, glinting in the glow of the setting sun, as if waiting for him.</p>
<p>Since leaving Fhirdiad, he’d been forced to fight with swords, and for a brief period of time, an ax. While he considered himself an adept fighter no matter the weapon, the ease with which he took down enemies with a lance was unparalleled. He approached the object carefully, a wave of nostalgia washing over him.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Come on, boar! Is that all you’ve got? Come at me again and don’t hold back this time!”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Thank you for sparring with me, Your Highness. Maybe one of these days I’ll finally be able to defeat you.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Please tell me we’re done, Your Highness. Any more training and I won’t be able to make my date tonight...”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Impeccable form, Dimitri. I’m pleased to see you’ve greatly improved since our last session. You should be proud of your hard work.”</em>
</p>
<p>“No!” he shouted, raising a hand and smacking his temple as if he could beat away the memories of simpler times bubbling to the surface. Memories of a world that had crumbled to dust along with the walls of Garreg Mach.</p>
<p>After he regained his bearings, Dimitri filled one of the sacks to the brim with supplies, enough to last him for a couple of weeks if he rationed himself appropriately but not cumbersome enough to risk slowing him down. It was only as he cast one final look at the encampment that something caught his attention in his periphery: a banner, now tainted with blood but once a deep blue and silver, emblazoned with a symbol that he knew all too well.</p>
<p><em>Aren’t you supposed to be focused on killing the girl instead of doing her dirty work for her? </em>Glenn’s voice mocked him. </p>
<p><em>What a blessing for our people that you never took the throne, </em>his father joined in. <em>Better for them to languish as prisoners of war than suffer at the hands of a Beast King.</em></p>
<p>His hold around his lance tightened as he forced down a wave of guilt. There was no room for remorse in war. He needed to remain focused.</p>
<p>“Cornelia’s lapdogs and nothing more,” he said aloud for both his sake and that of the ghosts. “They got what they deserved.”</p>
<p>That seemed to quiet the voices in his head for the time being. Satisfied with their departure, he began to retreat back into the forest.  Seeking shelter for the night, he walked until he found what seemed to be a suitable spot, quickly taking advantage of an adjacent stream to wash out the wound in his shoulder, in which blood had begun to congeal. The abundance of water also provided him with the opportunity to wash the evidence of the altercation from his hair and face, a rare convenience since he’d been on the run. He was reminded once again of the monastery, when he’d been able to make use of the sauna and bathhouse without the worry of being ambushed. Back then, he’d kept himself ostensibly clean, wanting to adhere to the image of a proper prince that he knew was expected of him. He quickly forced the memory away.  </p>
<p>As he scrubbed the blood and gore from his face, he was caught off guard by the image that formed in the water below. </p>
<p>It had been months, maybe even a year, since he’d gotten a proper look at his own reflection. There was no doubt in his mind that if he were to cross paths with someone from his past that they would be unable to recognize the beast looking back at him as the previous Crown Prince of Faerghus. His hair had grown significantly, unkempt and wild as it framed his face, while dark and prominent circles bordered his eyes. The most significant change was the long, jagged scar that ran vertically across his right eyelid and the sunken, tattered cavity beneath–a reminder that life could never return to the way it had been before the war. Before <em>her</em>.</p>
<p><em>Now the outside of the man is as grotesque as that which he harbors on the inside, </em>his stepmother cooed in his ear. <em>You are much more deserving of the life of a vagabond rather than the comfort of the royal capital, wouldn’t you agree?</em></p>
<p>With a snarl, he slapped at the water’s surface, no longer wanting to be subjected to the figure staring back at him. </p><hr/>
<p>Y<em>ou walk too slowly. Do you really want to avenge us or are those empty words just meant to appease us?</em></p>
<p>
  <em>He would reach the capital much faster if he wasn’t such a coward. You only take on the smallest of groups. How do you expect to defeat the emperor herself when you’re so weak?</em>
</p>
<p>More than a fortnight has passed since he’d come across the group of soldiers in the woods and raided their provisions. Blissfully, he’d suffered no further altercations, which meant he’d made decent progress in putting more distance between himself and Fhirdiad. A myriad of setbacks and the necessity to travel through the back roads and take cover within the woods meant that he’d yet to traverse the wide expanse of Kingdom territory; where once he had nothing but allies, soldiers and nobles of all allegiances were now vying for his head.</p>
<p><em>What trouble Cornelia has gone through to invent a crime for you to have committed, </em>Glen mused. <em>If only she’d realized that when left to your own devices you’d carry out more than enough atrocities for which to have you put to the guillotine. </em></p>
<p><em>She can have you, but only once you’ve killed that girl, </em>his father added. <em>Why should you get to live when we cannot? Especially when you’ve failed to carry out the one thing I asked of you. You’ve had nearly a decade to carry out my final wishes, and yet you’ve accomplished nothing.</em></p>
<p>“I swear I will avenge you, I will not disappoint you!” Dimitri choked out, halting in place as he tried to steady himself. At his outburst, the voices seemed to fade, at least for the moment. He sucked in a deep breath, his concentration set on placing one foot in front of the other as he tried to focus on his surroundings, so still and desolate that the only sounds were his own footfalls and the wind. </p>
<p>Until the silence was punctuated by the sound of a series of high-pitched screams. </p>
<p>Reflexively, Dimitri took an offensive stance, spinning in place to scan his environment. Nothing could be found within his range of view, but he did not relax his posture, straining his ears for further activity.</p>
<p>Another scream permeated the air, this time followed by a woman’s distraught voice. “No, please!”</p>
<p>Dimitri could now tell that the commotion was coming from the road, not too far from his current position. He was half-tempted to keep walking, knowing he was far enough from the confrontation to avoid detection, but another part of him was pulling him towards whatever scene was playing out on the other side of the thicket. </p>
<p><em>You are wasting valuable time, </em>his father hissed from behind him. <em>You need to make haste if you wish to reach Adrestia. </em></p>
<p>“They could be Empire soldiers. Or Cornelia’s men. They need to be put down,” he argued with the wind. His father tutted in his ear, displeased.</p>
<p>At the sound of more shouting, he shot forward as fast as he could manage while navigating the dense trees and shrubbery. It didn’t take long before he began to make out figures in the distance, stopping just short of where the forest ended and the road began. He quickly took in the scene before him: to one side stood a young woman, gaunt-looking and incredibly thin, most likely a resident from a nearby village. Next to her lay a basket of produce which had toppled over in the skirmish, its contents having spilled along the dirt road.</p>
<p>In front of her stood a small group of imperial soldiers, a handful of them with their weapons out, their horses loitering further to the side. The woman’s distress heightened when one of the men left the fray to approach her, his wrist wrapping around her forearm as he attempted to pull her towards the rest of the group. She stumbled as she attempted to yank herself out of his grasp, hitting the ground hard enough that her eyes watered as she winced in pain. The soldier laughed brazenly in response, taking advantage of the situation to tighten his hold on her as he began to drag her along the dirt. “Enough of that! Come on now, don’t be difficult! We both know how this is going to end...”</p>
<p>Something in Dimitri snapped. Within seconds, he leaped from his cover in the woods to the scene on the road, his lance slicing straight through the soldier’s gut, butting him to the ground with his shoulder before turning to the rest of the group. None of the remaining men even considered taking him on, immediately running towards their horses in an attempt to flee. </p>
<p><em>Cowards, </em>Dimitri thought to himself, snarling as he followed after them at a speed which greatly outmatched theirs. It took only a few swings of his lance before the group lay dead in the road. The horses remained where they stood when the skirmish began, apparently unaffected by the slaughter in front of them. More prepared for a fight than their riders, it seemed.</p>
<p>The sound of approaching footsteps gripped his attention. He quickly spun around, only to come face to face with the woman from before. She froze in terror, her gaze fixated on his lance which was pointed at her throat. As he lowered his weapon and relaxed his stance, she let out a relieved breath. With shaky hands, she reached one hand towards him, her palm open to reveal several gold coins. “F-for you,” she managed to choke out despite the tremble in her voice. “For saving me.”</p>
<p>Getting a closer look at the woman, it was even more obvious to him that wherever she was from, she was not well off. He doubted she could afford to part with even the smallest of sums. Not that the gold would do him any good; it would be akin to throwing the money at a stray dog. </p>
<p>“No need,” he said tersely, his voice hoarse and his tongue heavy as he formed the words. How long had it been since he’d talked to another human being? Months? Years?</p>
<p>She dropped her hand, the sharpness of his tone intimidating her from insisting any further. “At–at least let me offer you some food.” He watched as she ran over to where her basket had landed, taking a moment to shove her groceries back into the container before making her way back over to him. “A little dirty now, but still edible.” </p>
<p>This time, she offered him a loaf of bread and a handful of apples. He couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye, focusing instead of the food in her hands. While he wasn’t hungry at that moment, he would be eventually. And rations were becoming increasingly difficult to come by.</p>
<p>Nodding curtly, he reached out his hands to receive her offering, pulling them back immediately as soon as the items were dropped into his palm. As she continued to stare at him, the relatively innocent action unnerved him more than was probably warranted. He usually didn’t spend this long in another person’s presence without it ending in their demise. </p>
<p>When the woman spoke again, her voice was steadier, most of her fear having dissipated. “Whoever you are, thank you. I am in your debt, and that of the goddess for having sent you.”</p>
<p>Dimitri scoffed, holding back a biting retort about the foolishness of believing in an old wives’ tale. The woman was naive, but she did not warrant his ire. Without a word, he turned his back on her, heading back into the cover of the forest. </p>
<p>As he put distance between himself and the woman, despite his best efforts, her words began to replay in his head. Words laced with kindness and gratitude, two emotions of which he hadn’t been deserving for years now. </p>
<p>The ghosts, however, would not allow it. </p>
<p><em>Do not let those woman’s words deceive you, </em>his father reprimanded him. <em>You are still a beast. Your only purpose is to avenge us. Don’t forget that.</em></p>
<p>He wouldn’t.</p>
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